May 1, 2018
Most people's parental leave with a newborn consisted of taking care of a helpless human smaller than your average Thanksgiving turkey who created more mess, laundry, and dishes than was reasonable for anyone while asleep on their feet. My leave had all that, plus a little B&E.
Constantine Stiva was a cheapskate when it came to security. Door and window sensors and a couple of cameras that were only on when the building was occupied was all that protected Stiva's Funeral Home from Trenton's criminal element. Stiva refused to waste electricity on cameras of dark, empty rooms when his electric bill was high enough thanks to the freezers filled with the Burg's dearly departed. The most secure room in the whole building was where said residents were held before, during, and after the embalming process. It had a keypad lock and a steel door. He didn't mind if someone took the lamps he bought from Walmart, but he drew the line at unauthorized people fondling the recently deceased. I suspected that was a privilege he wanted all to himself.
The vault with the remaining money from the armored truck heist was in the funeral home's basement and would only be accessible at night while Stiva was asleep next door, probably still wearing his suit so he was ready for work at a moment's notice. Two days ago, I'd used the chaos of Edna Mazur opening the casket on Charlene Hansen to unlock a window in the back and disabled the alarm sensor. I would have preferred a door, but it would have been too obvious.
It was three in the morning, and I was parked a block away from Stiva's in the Honda Civic that I'd retrieved from the storage unit. I'd already scoped out the neighborhood for doorbell or security cameras and had parked in a place where I knew there weren't any. I spent a few minutes checking out my surroundings, but everything was dark and quiet. I grabbed the black rucksack from the backseat and threw it over my shoulder, walking as casually as I could towards the funeral home with the hood of my sweatshirt pulled up to hide my face. I glanced around once more as I stepped in front of the window, saw no one walking or driving nearby, and pushed the window open. I threw my bag in ahead of me as I pulled myself through the window. I was lucky the house was old and had large windows from the days before central air so I didn't have to slide in like a slug. Not that anyone was around to see if I climbed in the window gracefully, but I would know and would feel like an idiot. I closed the window behind me and listened for any sounds before making my way to the basement door. It was locked, but I picked it easily and let myself inside. I locked it behind me on the off chance someone stopped by and decided to test the doorknob. It wasn't likely, but the fact that I was even here with this knowledge proved that stranger things had happened.
The vault was tucked away in a corner of the basement behind the furnace. Calling it a vault was a little grand in my opinion. It wasn't much larger than the safe I had in my office and the lock was much older. I pulled out the device to unscramble the lock combination and connected it once I found the right fitting. I waited while the machine ran through the one hundred thousand possible combinations and got my rucksack ready to be loaded up once the safe was unlocked. After several minutes the device finally stopped and flashed the number at me. 35920.
I punched in the number, heard the safe unlock and opened the door. Stacks of bundled bills were neatly piled inside. I started pulling them out as quickly as I could while making sure they were organized enough for my bag to close. Once every compartment and side pouch was filled and secured, I headed back up the basement stairs, the bag now twenty-five pounds heavier than it had been when I'd arrived. I had just reached the last three stairs when I heard the sound of the alarm being disabled. I paused and listened as someone came in through the back door and walked past the basement humming Camptown Races. They opened another door somewhere further down the hallway a few seconds later. If it was Stiva, then he had gone to his office on the other side of the alcove. A few minutes later, the footsteps reappeared and beeps of a keypad combination being entered came down the hall. The steel door opened and closed with a loud latch. If Stiva stayed in the windowless room for just a few seconds, I could slip out the backdoor unseen. I had just reached the top of the stairs and had my hand on the doorknob lock when the back door opened again and a second person with heavier footsteps walked past. The other person heaved annoyed sighs and paced in the alcove for another five minutes before the door to the embalming room reopened.
"It took you long enough to get here," Stiva commented. "I pride myself on an expedient arrival after receiving the call." He definitely slept in his suit.
"I've been here for five minutes waiting on you," a younger male voice replied in an annoyed tone. "Who are we picking up?"
"Amelia Grassi. The hospice nurse called to say she passed an hour ago and the family are ready for us to collect her," Stiva replied. I heard a second door close, and the footsteps made their way past the basement door once again.
"Why can't these old people die at a decent hour?" the younger man grumbled as the back door opened and closed again without the alarm being reset.
I heard Stiva's fading reproach as they walked towards the garage where the hearse was parked. A minute later there was the faint sound of a car starting and I cracked the basement door in time to see headlights pulling away from the building. Once the lights were out of sight, I took the chance to get the hell out of there. I relocked the basement door and the window I'd originally come through and slipped out the unlocked back door. I had no idea how far away Amelia Grassi lived, but it likely wasn't far if they were leaving the building unlocked. I was back in the Civic three minutes later and headed back to the storage unit to swap vehicles. I couldn't help but smile as I transferred the rucksack into my Cayenne. Stiva and his partners were going to be pissed once they found out the money was missing next month when Barroni asked for his share early. Would Stiva still kill everyone to hide the fact that he had been pilfering? I couldn't find it in me to care much since two men had died during the robbery.
Julio was sitting in the recliner in our bedroom feeding Julie a bottle when I arrived home.
"Any problems?" he asked.
I shook my head and put the bag in our closet. "Stiva and his assistant came in as I was about to leave, but it worked out in my favor. He left the back door unlocked so I didn't have to climb out through the window. I owe Mrs. Amelia Grassi a thank you for dying in the middle of the night."
Julio held one of Julie's hands between his and the bottle and lifted it into the air. "Here's to Mrs. Grassi biting it so Daddy didn't get caught and go to jail."
"You think I would have been caught if she hadn't?" I asked as I changed clothes. "That hurts my feelings."
Julio snorted and sat Julie up to burp her. "No, but someone has to keep you humble."
"One million seven hundred thousand dollars," I announced to Julie later that morning. "Stiva only pilfered three hundred thousand this time around."
The baby was awake and sitting in a small moving seat on the floor next to my desk, the pacifier in her mouth moving slightly as she suckled. Julio was downstairs sterilizing bottles and getting a workout in while I counted the money in my office. There wasn't enough room in our own safe for all of it, so I opened a drawer on a file cabinet and put the remainder in there. The money wouldn't be at the house for long because I already had plans for it.
"You usually shouldn't steal," I told Julie once the money was secured. "But this money was already stolen, and the bad guys were benefiting from it. I took it from them so we can actually help people. Some people would still say that was wrong, but I disagree. Sometimes two wrongs do make a right."
Julie shared her thoughts on the matter by grunting for the next two minutes. I waited until she was done and picked her up to the unpleasant discovery that she'd had a blow-out. "You're being awfully judgmental for someone who shits their pants," I told her as I took her and the seat to get cleaned up.
I gave Julie a bath, which was her least favorite thing in the world, and tried to soothe her as she wailed. I knew I would love her, but hadn't been prepared for how much stronger my feelings would be this time. The two girls looked so much alike sometimes that it hurt, but the differences in my relationships with them was so apparent even at this early stage that I found it easier to focus on this life. I could count the hours I spent with Julie Martine during those fifteen years we had together. I had taken care of this baby's every need around-the-clock for nearly three weeks and could appreciate how much that component impacted our relationship. She didn't have a clue who I was to her, only that I was one of the two giants who gave her food, made her feel better when she was uncomfortable, made her sit in water sometimes, and spoke to her in two languages she didn't understand. What surprised me most was that I enjoyed it all. I liked soothing her when she cried and rocking her to sleep. I liked the trust in her eyes as I fed her a bottle and the little smiles she gave me, even though I knew they were involuntary.
A text message came through from Stephanie as I was rocking Julie to sleep after her bottle.
How's leave going?
Good. Any issues at the office?
Senator Rush keeps calling. His Chief of Staff even stopped by earlier. I don't think they believed us when we told them you're on leave.
Rush thinks hounding me will do something. The only thing it does is annoy me.
Senator Leslie Rush from Florida had been trying to get to me for two weeks. He had started at the Columbus office and Tank had offered to meet with him, but he insisted he could only meet with me. Once he learned I was on leave and wouldn't be coming down to Georgia for a while, he started calling the Trenton office. Now he was showing up there. I didn't know what he wanted and gave less of a damn with each reported phone call. The man was more hypocritical than most politicians. He was a closeted gay man and vehemently xenophobic. He had gone through a public backlash earlier in the year for asking a Cuban-American judge who was being confirmed for a federal appointment how many of his relatives had arrived in the country through legal routes and how many had floated in on their living room doors. He was up for re-election this year and had an opponent challenging him in the Republican primary in August. Whether that had anything to do with why he so desperately wanted to talk to me remained to be seen.
Do you want us to do anything differently? Stephanie asked.
Hang up when they call, and if they show up at the office again, have them escorted out.
I had just put Julie to bed when Julio came upstairs from his workout. He was shirtless and wearing a pair of running shorts. His chest glistened with sweat, and he was finishing a glass of water. He looked good. Really good. We hadn't had sex since Julie was born and I was starting to get desperate. We had tried a couple of times, only to be interrupted when she woke up. Both times it had taken her so long to get settled that the other one had fallen asleep. We had gotten into a decent routine and weren't as tired as we were the first couple of weeks. The way he grinned at me from the doorway told me he had been thinking the same thing.
I ran a finger across the new tattoo of Julie's name that was over his heart as he slept. Something between us had changed since having her. I already loved him beyond words, but it was different now, like he had burrowed himself into my DNA. He loved being a father and watching him with our daughter had done something to me so deep it almost hurt, but not in a bad way. People accused me of being heartless because I didn't openly express myself, but my early years of abuse at the hands of other boys had taught me that showing emotions just made everything worse. Even my older brother had tormented me if I said I was afraid or cried. Julio had been the first person who had ever let me talk about how I felt without mocking me or using it for gain, which was probably why he was still the only person I trusted that way today. But I still struggled to tell him how I felt. It wasn't in my nature, but I hoped he knew.
The doorbell chime startled Julio awake and I immediately reached for my phone. "Who the fuck is it?" he asked groggily.
I opened the security app to look at the doorbell camera. A man in his mid-thirties wearing a blue polo shirt was standing at the door, looking nervously over his shoulder.
"Yes?" I asked over the intercom.
"Is this the home of Carlos Manoso?" the man asked.
"Who's asking?"
"I'm George Meyer, the Chief of Staff for Senator Leslie Rush," the man said. "The Senator would like a moment of your time."
"Are you kidding me?" Julio said. "He's showing up at our fucking house now?"
"My office has told you multiple times that I am on leave and will return to the office on the fourteenth. The Senator can call me then," I said to Meyer.
He fidgeted on the step as he looked back over his shoulder at the car in the driveway. "The matter is time sensitive, Mr. Manoso. It really needs to be addressed now."
Yeah, right. "Then find someone else," I said. I turned off the app and put the phone back on the table.
"Do you think he'll go away?" Julio asked.
"No. But I'm not going to rush down there either."
Hard pounding noises came from downstairs as someone beat on the front door. I heaved an annoyed sigh and redressed. "I'm going to have to kill him."
The pounding continued until I opened the door, where the Senator was standing with his fist raised. He was short and balding with wisps of red hair clinging to his scalp, and was wearing a dress shirt open at the collar, a navy blazer and tan pants.
"If you pound on that door again, I'll do the same to your head," I warned him. "You have five seconds to get off my property before I physically remove you."
"Mr. Manoso, I just need a moment of your time to discuss an important—"
"No. Get off my property," I said and went to shut the door, but the Senator stuck his foot out to stop it.
"Mr. Manoso, I really need to talk to you," he said shortly. "Why are you being so difficult?"
I heard Julie start crying upstairs.
"Because you've been told I'm on leave, and not only have you continued to ignore that, but now you've shown up at my home and woken my baby from her nap. I don't care what you want."
Rush made an exasperated noise. "I'm willing to pay you handsomely."
"I don't want your money."
"Please!" Rush almost shouted. "I need someone who can be discreet who might understand the predicament I'm in."
"Which is?"
I heard Julio on the steps behind me and looked around to see him coming downstairs with Julie in his arms. He looked as annoyed as I was. I looked back at Rush who swallowed hard and tore his eyes away from Julio's bare chest to meet my eyes. He nodded in Julio's direction. "If you get my meaning," he murmured. "No one else knows."
"That you're gay?" Julio asked. "Everyone knows that. No one cares except you, and the right-wing nutjobs who voted for you."
Rush's face flushed red. "What people think they know and what they actually know are two different things," he replied indignantly. "But you two surely can understand the need for discretion where it's warranted. How long was your relationship a secret before the end of the Don't Ask, Don't Tell policy?"
"Goodbye, Senator," I said, kicking his foot out of the way to shut the door.
"Okay, okay!" Rush shouted. "I'll tell you, but can I please at least come inside?"
I looked over at Julio who shrugged. Rush would be a persistent pain in the ass if we didn't give him a chance to talk. I opened the door and Rush stepped inside. "You have five minutes."
We went into the living room and Rush took a seat on the sofa while I leaned against the wall by the staircase. "Talk."
Rush looked over at Julio who had sat down on the other end of the couch with Julie. "This is a private conversation," he said.
"And this is my private home and my private time. You can either talk in front of him or get out," I said. "Four minutes, forty seconds."
Rush looked annoyed but pushed on. "I am in need of security for an event I'm hosting for people of my…persuasion."
"Gay Republicans?" Julio asked. Rush glared at him. "I need a security detail that can be discreet. One that won't have people selling photos and salacious stories for a few bucks afterwards."
"Any security firm can do that," I replied. "Add your own NDAs on top of any they've signed with their employer if you're worried."
"But I've heard about you. You run a tight ship. Your employees are loyal to you and respect you. That's important. I trust you would keep them in line. I can't say that about some of these others," Rush said. "I already told you I'm willing to pay handsomely. I've talked to some people who used your services before to get an idea of your fees. I'm willing to pay double, plus expenses."
"Why should I do this?" I asked. "I don't need your money, so you're going to need to give me a better reason."
"You don't care about losing out on a six-digit contract for three days' work?"
"No."
Rush considered me for a minute. "Is there something else you're looking for? A government contract, perhaps?"
"I'm not interested in government contracts." I'd done those in my last life and they were always more trouble than they were worth.
Rush leaned back on the couch and crossed his legs. "Your family is originally from Cuba, correct? Your grandparents emigrated after the revolution? Do you have other family members who are looking to come to the United States? Perhaps I can make that process easier for them."
"No thanks. They'll just float here on their living room doors like everyone else," I replied. Julio laughed and Rush's face reddened.
"Fine. Name your price. Whatever it is, I'll do it," Rush said sulkily.
"Who says I have one? You haven't given me details about what will be going on at this event. I have standards and there are certain things I won't ignore or be party to. I think you're a disgusting excuse for a human being, and I suspect your only reason for wanting to use my company is to rehabilitate your image with the public, particularly with your Cuban constituents."
"And you don't need to worry about them," Julio said as he shifted Julie in his lap. "Cubans are more afraid of the socialist boogey-man than they are of racists. They'd vote for you even if you promised to drown them all on election day."
Jesus Christ. "Julio," I warned, giving him a shut the fuck up look. It was bad enough when I had to listen to him rant after spending time with my family. I didn't need someone else around to debate with him.
"If I said that kind of thing, I'd certainly never get re-elected," Rush said in a scandalized tone. "And you're married to a Cuban."
"Which is why Julio won't be running for office," I said. "Back to the point."
"I'm not using you to rehabilitate my image, as you say," Rush continued, and Julio's subsequent cough sounded like bullshit. "I want to use your company for its sterling reputation for competency and discretion."
This was a desperate man, which meant I could ask for anything, and he would somehow get it done. I didn't need anything for myself or my family, so whatever I asked for would need to be worth putting my reputation on the line.
"I worked with an Afghan interpreter named Aarash Khan during my time in Special Forces. He's been going through the vetting process for over a decade to get the visa promised to him. I even submitted a sponsorship for him last year that has gone nowhere," I told Rush. "The man risked his life for us, and the government has left him there. He and his family are at risk every day because he helped us. I want him, his wife, and their children have to their visas approved so they can come to the country as soon as humanly possible."
Rush raised an eyebrow. "You're saying that you'll provide a detail for me if I can get their visas fast-tracked?"
"As long as you aren't expecting us to become accessories to crimes."
"And by crimes, you mean…"
"He means he doesn't care if you do blow off a stripper's dick, but he won't be ignoring things like murder, rape, or anything to do with underaged kids," Julio answered.
Rush looked between us, and I nodded. "That pretty much sums it up."
"Oh, no worries about that," Rush said with a dismissive hand wave. "We're just looking for a weekend of relaxation and fun."
"Then I suggest you get back to Washington and start working on those visas," I said, grabbing some paper and a pen from a table. "Once I have written confirmation of their approval and that Aarash has been notified, then we'll work on the contract."
I wrote down the names of Aarash and his family and closed the door on Rush's heels two minutes later.
"I can't believe you're going to do this," Julio said.
"If it'll get Aarash and his family here, it'll be worth it," I replied. "And really, babe? Cubans would vote for him even if he promised to drown them on election day?"
"Tell me I'm wrong."
"You're wrong."
Julio rolled his eyes and headed into the kitchen with Julie. "You're learning early that Daddy doesn't know as much as he thinks he does," he told the baby.
I hit my head against the doorframe. "You're going to be an enormous pain in the ass about this, aren't you?" I asked as I followed him into the kitchen.
"You'll be protecting a bunch of hypocritical assholes who go on television to call people like us predators, thugs, rapists, drug dealers, or some combination of that shit before they go off on their gay orgy weekend," he replied angrily as he transferred meat from the freezer to the refrigerator. "Yeah, I'm gonna be a pain in the ass about it."
"I agree that they're a bunch of hypocritical assholes, but we can't always choose who we have to deal with sometimes," I said. "It's not like I'm going to do this job and come back thinking like them."
"No, it's about principles," Julio said shortly. "We have a daughter that we have to answer to someday about our choices. I don't want her believing that principles are for sale if the price is right."
"You heard me. This isn't about the money. If money was the only factor, I wouldn't do it," I replied. "This is about Aarash and his family. I sat with him and watched twenty years of training, trillions of dollars, and thousands of dead people go to waste as Afghanistan fell to the Taliban again over the course of ten days. After he lost contact with his family, I spent two years helping him look for them. I spent over two hundred thousand dollars hiring people in-country. I watched him lose hope and eventually start praying that they'd been killed quickly because the alternative was that his daughters and wife were married off to Taliban fighters and raped while his sons either fought for the Taliban or were executed." My voice had gotten louder the longer I talked, and I took a moment to compose myself. Memories of Aarash's anguish still haunted me, and I suspected they always would.
"I failed him last time," I said in a calmer tone. "I should have done more. I should have fought harder to get him here sooner, so then he could have gotten them out before the withdrawal. I should have hired people to smuggle them out as soon as it became clear what was happening. I should have gone to Afghanistan myself and looked for them. Instead, I stood by and watched it all happen and only sent people in once it was too late."
Julio was leaning against the counter in front of me, his previously irritated expression sobered. I hadn't told him much about Aarash, just that I wanted to get him and his family out before the withdrawal.
"I don't know how he kept going," I admitted. "I couldn't have. If something happened to you and Julie, they'd have to bury me with you. I can look her in the eye one day and explain to her why I did this. I have the chance to save an entire family, and I have to take it, even if it's unsavory. Because if the tables were turned, I hope Aarash would be willing to do the same for us."
Julio buried his nose in Julie's hair and placed a small kiss on the top of her head. "I didn't realize it was that bad."
"Can you trust next time that I'm not doing something that's against my principles just for money?"
He nodded. "I know you wouldn't. I wasn't thinking."
"No, you were too busy disparaging Cubans," I said, pulling him by the waistband of his shorts so he was close enough for a quick kiss on the lips. "In case you've forgotten, I'm Cuban. Grandma's Cuban, and our daughter's half-Cuban."
"I know, and I love your Cuban asses even if your political leanings are shit."
Morelli and Stephanie came over Friday evening to have dinner. They had been in an on-phase of their relationship for the last several months and both seemed happy with it. I was glad to see them happy, though I figured it was only a matter of time before something happened and they broke up for a while.
"I don't usually think babies are very cute, but she's a really pretty baby," Stephanie said as Morelli held Julie. "Is your sister gorgeous too?"
Julio pulled up a picture of Nadine and turned his phone around. "I think she looks like a bridge troll, but she's my sister and I'm gay, so you can judge for yourself," he said. "And there's two more just like her."
"If that's what a bridge troll looks like, then I want to be one," Stephanie said.
"What happened to your promise not to be mean to her?" I asked Julio. "Your daughter gets half of her DNA from that bridge troll."
"I'm joking. Besides, it's not like I'm saying it to her face, so it doesn't count," he said. "You didn't hear the shit she said about me growing up."
"While we're talking about sisters, do you know what happens with Valerie?" Stephanie asked me. "Because she's trying to figure out her life and it's driving everyone crazy. Is there anything I can do to steer her somewhere? Does she get remarried or move or anything?"
"She ended up married to a man named Albert Kloughn in my last life. They had two kids together and seemed happy."
"Albert Clown?" Stephanie asked, looking horrified.
"K-L-O-U-G-H-N," I said. "He's an attorney over in Hamilton Township. He's not especially successful and he's an awkward guy, but he's a good man and seemed like a loving husband and father."
Stephanie pulled up Kloughn's picture from his Facebook page. "He looks like he's twelve years old. How did they meet?"
"You met Albert working a case and he needed an assistant, so you told Valerie about the job. They started dating after a while and then she got pregnant. They both went through some cold feet on the whole marriage thing, but eventually got it done after she got pregnant a second time."
"My mother will love that," Stephanie said. "But anything has to be better than what she's doing now."
"You'll just have to distract your mother with your new job," I said.
"She's thrilled about it, especially since I'm giving up bond enforcement completely. I can't imagine what she would have been like if I was doing it full-time."
"She drank a lot of whisky, and she once hit and killed a guy in a rabbit costume with her car when he tried to abduct you," I said. Stephanie's mouth dropped open.
"Why was the guy in a rabbit costume?" Morelli asked.
"Because he worked for a lunatic," I said.
"I'm glad that won't be an issue this time," Stephanie said once she had recovered. "But speaking of my family, were you ever going to tell me that you were the one who helped my cousin Amanda escape her ex-husband? She called me the other day because she heard about my promotion and said you not only were the one who helped her, but you gave her back the money she and her best friend had paid so she could get on her feet."
"I assumed she would tell you if she wanted you to know."
Stephanie's expression turned serious. "What happened to her in your last life?"
"He killed her when she tried to leave him, then himself." I saw Stephanie shiver at the thought.
"I'm glad you got to her first," she said.
"Wanna hold the baby?" Morelli asked Stephanie, who grimaced.
"I'm not great at it," she said. "Babies tend to cry when I hold them."
"She cries when anyone holds her," Julio replied. "You can't take it personally."
Stephanie awkwardly accepted Julie from Morelli and looked lost as to what to do with her. "Hi," she said to the baby. "How's it going?"
I wasn't prepared for the impact of seeing Stephanie with my child. It felt like there was an elephant on my chest and I couldn't breathe. I hadn't considered what our child could have looked like in years, but now I was face-to-face with what could have been and the work I'd done to emotionally distance myself felt like it had been yanked out from under me. I pushed away from the table, told everyone I'd be right back, and headed upstairs to my office. By the time I opened the door, I had a slightly better hold over myself. I sat down at my desk and took several deep breaths. I practiced the mental exercises I had used to help put my feelings for the old Stephanie back in the grave where they belonged. I heard someone coming up the stairs and quickly opened my laptop.
"What are you doing?" Julio asked.
"I changed my mind about waiting until next week to talk to Morelli," I said, pulling up the document I needed. "I'll do it tonight so he has more time to think about it."
Julio leaned against the doorway and watched as I printed out the papers and stuffed them into an envelope. "Was that all it was? You seemed weird about Stephanie holding Julie."
I shook my head and focused on shutting down my laptop. "I just decided to get it done so he has time to ask questions."
Julio put a hand on my chest when I approached the doorway. "You can tell me."
An unspoken truce had developed between Stephanie and Julio in the last couple of weeks. Whether it was because I had told Stephanie the truth, Julio had mellowed after becoming a father, or some combination thereof, Julio had been civil towards Stephanie, and she had responded accordingly. I was thankful for it and didn't want to do anything to rock the boat.
"I'm fine," I assured him, holding up the envelope. "This was all I needed."
He didn't believe me, but didn't press the issue further. We could hear Julie crying once we reached the kitchen. Julio stopped to prepare a bottle, and I headed back out to the patio.
"I didn't do anything, I promise," Stephanie said when she saw me. "She just started crying."
"It's fine. She's ready to eat," I said, taking the baby. "Julio's getting her a bottle."
"Okay, good. I hoped I didn't do anything wrong," Stephanie said. "I know Julio said not to take it personally, but that's easier said than done."
I waited until Julie was quiet in Julio's arms sucking down a bottle to start talking. "Did Rowan tell you Natasha got the promotion?" I asked Stephanie.
"No, he didn't. That's great, but does that mean he has to leave?"
I nodded. "Her position is based in Dallas, and she has to be there by the end of June. They need time to get packed and their house sold, so his last day will be June eighth."
"Rowan Langford, right? DEA guy?" Morelli asked. I nodded.
"His wife is still in the DEA. She'll be overseeing the Dallas Field Office."
"I worked with him on a few cases. He was damn good at his job," Morelli said. "I bet you hate to see him leave."
"I do, but he gave me plenty of warning that it might happen, so I've had time to consider potential replacements."
"Who are you looking at?" Stephanie asked.
"I have an outside hire in mind, but if he's not interested, then I have a couple of internal people," I said. I slid the envelope across the table to Morelli, who furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "The details are all there. Job description, salary, benefits."
Stephanie looked surprised and Morelli took a beat to respond. "You want me to be your branch manager?"
I nodded. "I trust you. You're good at what you do, and you have skills that are valuable in my line of work. I believe everyone in the office would respect you and follow your lead."
Morelli opened the envelope and read through the job description. When he got to the second page, his eyes got a little wider. "Damn. That's more than twice my salary now."
I nodded. "That's the private sector for you."
"The health insurance is good," Stephanie added. "Your 401K is matched up to four-percent, and you can use your paid days off however you want. I used one last month when I had food poisoning and used another one last week to go to Atlantic City with Grandma."
"Tired of being my confidential informant?" Morelli asked.
"There isn't much more to give you that I can't stop on my own," I told him. "And now that Stephanie won't be working in bond enforcement at all, several things will likely change."
"Would I be her boss?" he asked, nodding toward Stephanie.
"No, you both report directly to me."
Morelli took a minute to think. "When do you need an answer?"
"As soon as you have one. I'd like you to have some time to meet with Rowan before he leaves, even if you're still wrapping things up with the police department."
"I'll have an answer for you by Wednesday."
"The police department probably won't like you poaching from them," Stephanie said.
"They won't be alone," I said. "I'm hoping to get Connie Rosolli as our new office manager."
"Oh boy. Vinnie won't like that," Stephanie replied. "Who will protect him from his bookies?"
"He can always hire us."
I parked in front of the bonds office Saturday morning knowing Vinnie wouldn't be there to overhear me offer Connie a job. I wasn't sure what progress I would make with her but still wanted to try. While part of her job was terrible (dealing with Vinnie), I suspected the reason she stayed was the freedom to run the office as she saw fit. I could be flexible (despite what Julio thought) if she wanted to do some things differently, and I knew she wouldn't take shit from anyone, client or coworker. Plus, having someone with connections to the mob in the office didn't hurt either.
Connie was sitting at her desk painting her nails when I walked in. "Hey, stranger. Long time, no see. How's that baby doin'?"
"She's great," I said, sitting down in a chair across from Connie.
"Let me see a picture," she said beckoning at me with one hand. "I know she's gorgeous but I want to see for myself."
I pulled up a photo I'd taken that morning as a response to my mother's daily 'send me a picture of Julie' text and turned the phone around.
"Oh, she's stunning," Connie said. "You know, most babies aren't that cute, but that girl could be a model already. What brings you by? Missin' the action of bond enforcement? We'll be happy to have you back if you're interested, especially since Steph got that promotion and won't be doing bond enforcement anymore."
"I do miss it sometimes," I admitted. "But that's not why I'm here. How do you like your job?"
Connie snorted. "I work for Vinnie. But he's usually not here and I can do what I want, so it isn't too bad."
"Since Stephanie got the promotion, I'm in need of an office manager. You interested?"
Connie paused blowing on her wet nails. "You want me to come work for you?"
I nodded and pulled an envelope out of my jacket. "The job's yours if you want it."
"Open it up, my nails are still wet," she said. I put the unfolded job offer on the desk for her to read.
"That's a lot of money," she said. "And benefits! Retirement, insurance, vacation time, no weekends, plus you have that woman who does all the cooking. When do I start?"
I chuckled and folded up the paper. "I thought it might be harder to convince you. You have a lot of freedom here."
Connie waved a hand. "Vinnie's scum and I'm bored. Plus, one day his bookies are going to stop caring if anyone else is here and they'll shoot a rocket through the window and kill us both. I'll be damned if I'm gonna die because Vinnie owes a loan shark a quarter mil, you know what I mean?"
I nodded. "There won't be any issues like that at my office. And you're welcome to make some changes if you think they'll be beneficial. Just run them by me first."
"Sold. Where do I sign?" Connie asked.
"Come by the office Monday. I'll have HR send everything you need. When do you want to start? Do you need to give Vinnie two weeks' notice?"
"Two weeks? Hell, he's not even getting two hours," she said. She used a pen to punch in numbers on the office phone. It rang twice before Vinnie answered.
"Yeah? What is it?"
"I'm quitting," she said. "I got a better offer."
"What do you mean you're quitting? And what better offer?" Vinnie asked.
"Carlos just hired me to be his new office manager now that Stephanie's been promoted."
"Oh Jesus Christ. First, he takes away one of our BEAs, now he's taking my office manager too?"
"That's right," Connie said. "I'll set the alarm when I leave and drop the key off at your house later."
"You mean you're quitting right this minute? What am I supposed to do? Run the office by myself?"
"Exactly. You can write bonds and take calls instead of jerking off in your office or gambling away even more money you don't have."
Vinnie started to protest again, but Connie hung up. "I can't wait to work for a boss who isn't a degenerate gambler and sex addict."
My phone started buzzing and I looked at the display. It was a Washington D.C. number. "I'll see you Monday," I said as I answered the phone.
"Hello, Mr. Manoso, it's George Meyer from Senator Rush's office. I'm calling to let you know that the visas for the Khan family have been approved, and the State department has already reached out to inform them."
"I want copies sent to my email," I replied as I climbed into the car.
"Already done. When can the Senator expect to discuss the security needs for his trip?"
"Send me the details and I'll review them over the weekend."
Meyer promised to send the requested information and we scheduled a call for Tuesday afternoon. I did the math on the time difference with Afghanistan and decided it wasn't too late to call Aarash.
"Carlos!" Aarash cried when he answered. "How did you do it?"
"I made a deal with someone desperate," I said. "How soon can you be ready to leave? I can take care of anything you need to expedite the process."
"You have done so much already," he said. "We will never be able to thank you."
"You don't need to thank me. I'm just getting you what you rightly earned and deserve. There's an apartment on the top floor of the office where your family can stay until you can find a place to live. Robert Kinsey sponsored another interpreter we worked with and he's living nearby. He's offered to help you get settled since he recently went through the process himself."
"Oh, Inshallah!" Aarash said. "Thank you, Carlos. I will never be able to repay this kindness."
He promised to keep me updated on the timeline for his arrival after thanking me five more times before we finally ended the call. Things were falling into place nicely, but I wouldn't get complacent. The Khans wouldn't be completely safe from the Taliban until they were stateside, which I hoped to make happen as soon as humanly possible.
I had to stop at the grocery store before I went home and pulled out my phone to consult the list I'd made that morning. A text from Morelli had come through while I'd been talking to Aarash, and I grinned as I read the two-word message.
I'm in.